I've Moved!!

Hey guys! I've Moved!

I am super excited to let you know that I am embarking on a new, super awesome, specially focused blog called The Sparkling Hippie!

Please come check it out.  I am very excited to see the direction the Lord is taking me in this new blog chapter of my life.

http://thesparklinghippie.com/

Come check it out!!

Sunday Funday: April 12

One of my good girl friends has a feening for hiking lately.  This past Sunday we decided to scratch that itch by planning a hiking trip to Quartz Mountain.  She had actually wanted to hike the Wildlife Refuge but that was in the opposite direction of how I had planned to spend my Sunday morning, so we decided to hold switch paths for this week.

I started the day by waking up early and heading to Altus for worship at my favorite church.  I love going there for many reasons, one being that I know I am completely there for God, not others' opinions or approvals.  I'm there for one reason only and that is heart-felt, beautiful worship.

Sure enough the praise was awesome and the holy spirit was strong.  The sermon was about the parable of the seeds.  I found it very inspiring and took several pages of notes from the discussion.  At twelve o'clock, as always, I was sad to leave the sanctuary but I knew it was time to continue my journey out in the world.

I had taken just a few steps outside when I saw a good friend of mine.  He informed me of an event going on downtown and told me I should come.  So I parked my car and checked it out.  It was the Walking on Chalk event hosted by Main Street Altus.  I had heard of this event and wanted to see it for myself in years past but had never made it.  I loved it!  Artwork all over the streets is fun to watch and enjoy.  Before too long I found myself paying five bucks to enter a drawing myself.  I knew I wasn't much up for the prize money because most of these artists had bags and bags of specialized chalk.  They had came early to stake out the good pieces of concrete and their works were premeditated.  Regardless, I had an hour to kill before my friends would arrive in Altus and I wanted to get some art out of my system.

For weeks a phrase out of an Elin Hilderbrand book had haunted me.  "She was her own happy ending."  The moment I read it I felt the connection and minutes later I saw the vision.  I had something I needed to create.  Because this was fresh on my mind I chose the Art Walk as a fair enough place to create it.

First I picked a smooth square slab of concrete, but I was soon told that adults had to use parking spaces, not squares.  I was okay with this, until I realized that the only smooth parking spaces were across the road and they had already been filled up.  A lady instructed me to use the parking spaces on this side of the road and try to find a smooth one.  The problem was, these spaces were on asphalt, therefore they were jagged and course, making it hard to chalk on.  I didn't have a choice though, so I complied.

Very soon I found myself getting extremely into my chalk art.  I was kneeling down then standing up and moving from one side of the parking slot to the other.  The hair, the brains, the beauty and colors of it all were coming together.  This was my masterpiece that needed to be seen and felt.  The process took me nearly an hour and I felt pleased with my work, though I knew it was rough and choppy due to the canvas.

Several of my friends greeted me when I finished.  Altus friends who just happened to be walking around.  I was invited to a bar-b-que and a different hiking trip.  Unfortunately around this time I needed to change out of my church clothes (jeans and a t-shirt) and into my hiking clothes (shorts and a tank top.)  So I headed to my friend Bailey's house to change clothes and catch up on life.  Of course, this always takes longer than 15 minutes and that was all the time I had until my girls were meeting up with me.

So I was late.

But I met the girls at a parking lot across town just a half hour later.  We drove into the North until we came to a trail we liked near Quartz Mountain.

The hike was beautiful!  We found ourselves off and on the path, in the middle of craters and even on top of a large rock.  The funniest part was that Katrina and I kept seeing identical scenes from the Lion King.  We saw the crevice where the hyenas hide, the valley when it was destroyed, the place where Simba crawled back up and even a few more.

My phone said we hiked about three miles.  It was exhilarating but it also made us very hungry.  Naturally, our final stop for the day involved sushi at our favorite hibachi joint.  We feasted.  Calamari, Crab Ragoon, Miso Soup, and House Salads for appetizers, plus two Sushi rolls and two hibachi plates.  We had hiked up quite the appetite!

Overall I would say this was a very memorable and fun Sunday.  We plan on hiking again very soon.

Pushing Through the Crust

On Easter Sunday we had our tighter circle of family out to Hooverville for a wonderful meal.  Grandma, Grandpa, Steven and Miranda,  Tommy and Denice, Mom, Dad, Grant and I, all enjoyed a wonderful meal prepared by my mother.  Ham, deviled eggs, salad, hot rolls, potato casserole and beans made for a delicious spread.

Grandma and Grandpa were excited to be back at home.  The first thing Grandpa did when he got out of the car was take his walker out to the wheat pasture behind the house.  He wanted to see the wheat!

I walked with him as we examined the wheat up close.  He picked a strand and told me the head would come out here in the next week or so.  I always take Dad and Grandpa's word when it comes to farming and gardening, however the back of my mind says they have to be either psychic or magicians to know this stuff.  How can you tell the exact week when your crop is going to pop out of the ground or turn colors?  Grandpa hadn't even seen my garden and he still knew when my potatoes would sprout!

Since we were near the garden I excitedly showed Grandpa the progress my onions had made.  He was very pleased, although I quickly apologized for not having freshly weeded the garden (it had been less than a week, though.)  Nevertheless, Grandpa's seal of approval was on my onions, and that was worth gold!

A few weeks later my potatoes started to bloom.  Dad had told me to keep the ground wet so the plants could push through the crust.  I was fascinated as I soon saw exactly what Dad meant. These tiny baby plants were literally pushing their way through the hard outer shell of the earth and into the fresh air.  For weeks I had been hoeing around plants that I couldn't see.  To be honest, I wasn't even sure if I was hoeing in between the rows or not, but by good faith I did it anyway.  Slowly but surely one plant after another began to pop up, and it seemed like overnight they would arrive.

The whole idea of "pushing through the crust" is amazing to me.  What was once a seed is now moving earth around so they can complete it's purpose in life.  I think that should inspire anyone.  What is the "crust" in your life that you need to push through in order to fulfill your purpose?

In church on Sunday this lesson continued when my pastor spoke on the parable of the seeds in Mark 4.  The farmer used good seed and cast it across the land.  The seed fell on to four different types of soil: hard, rocky, thorny and good.  Each type of soil is linked to the spiritual life of you and I.  The Lord is planting seeds and we hear good words but are they taking root in your life?  Perhaps the seeds are not growing because your heart is hard or because your idols are choking it out.  Maybe you believe the Lord and want to follow him but as soon as a hard time comes you give up.

The good news is, you can change your soil.  You can change the outcome of the seeds.  It is your choice to be good soil, you only have to cultivate your heart in good faith, just as I did my garden.  Remember, it was weeks before I saw results, but the persistence paid off.

Think about what kind of soil you are, and ask yourself what crust you need to push through in order to live the life of purpose and passion that God called you to.  You just mind find a sprout to water.

Camy-II

Our first big adventure...Norman!

Camy was ready to go on that hot August day.  She was loaded down with boxes full of ambition...that and a lot of clothes.  My brother actually drove that day, but him, Camy and myself made the trip behind my parent's large pick up truck full of stuff.

Camy's speakers beautifully played the playlist I had prepared.  Songs like "One-Way Ticket" and "Wide Open Spaces" filled her inner cavity.  She was my partner on this new adventure I had decided upon.  In the following months we together explored citizenship in a new city and a state university.  Some of our earliest experiences together on campus involved dozens of parking tickets.  I would cringe and then laugh when I would come out of class or a meeting and find a little yellow envelope tucked under her wiper blade.

We actually found out pretty quick that it was bette

r for her to rest during the day while I walked a mile or so to school and back.  College campuses are particularly vehicle-friendly.

Fortunately, Camy and I would take time to explore on the weekends.  My friends and I would make trips to Bricktown, Oklahoma City and Shawnee, occasionally.  And when we were busy driving around the metro, Camy and I were zipping down south to visit the folks for the weekend.  To this day, Camy still holds the record for fastest time through a PikePass booth.

Camy took me to my first OU/Texas game in Dallas.  She even got a little bump on the rear as a permanent memory of the trip.

We went to and from Altus and Norman to visit my Grandma when she was in her last weeks.  Camy held my cousin and I as we shared tears, memories and laughter on the road home.

Job interviews, internships and night classes were all made possible because of my friend.  She even drove me to my college graduation, and the delicious meal with the family afterwards.

This past year Camy has taken on a whole new role.  As my life has grown and changed, she has adapted well every step of the way.  It takes a special car to be a Chamber Car.  Not just any car has what it takes to carry supplies for monthly board meetings like sandwiches, chips, cookies, iced tea, bags of ice, papers, documents, folders and invoices.

Not just any car can survive a weekend of Cotton Festival supplies.  Boxes full of gloves, napkins, bowls, sample cups, spoons, cash money, chips, crackers, banners, tables, chairs, ticket boxes, pamphlets and brochures filled Camy from the inside out as I used her for my portable storage unit that weekend.  All day long I was running back and forth to my trusty friend for music CD's, extra pens, sharpies, and other supplies.  The same goes for Oyster Fry and Wagon Wheel too.  Did you know that Camy is capable of holding TEN cases of water bottles, in her trunk alone!?

Throughout the week she zips all over town with me.  We deliver invoices, pick up donations from good members, drop of deposits and mail, visit businesses and hang flyers.  We stay busy doing business Monday through Friday and we look official doing it because Camy is a professional car.  She has an image she upholds well.  We call her feisty because she is.  From the second you sit down she is a no-nonsense vehicle.  Her alert to fasten your seat belt is of the most persistent alarms I have heard.  She is strict on safety, but big on fun.  Her stereo system likes to be played loud and her seats like to be filled with friends.

In fact, she is excellent in her weekend transformation.  On the weekends she morphs back into her more youthful (but still responsible) self.  She delivers my friends and I to all sorts of happening spots around the area.  Lawton, Altus and Wichita are all places where Camy finds us having fun.  Good Saturday nights are often marked in Camy's backseat.  Taco Bell packets, shredded cheese and the occasional mini Fireball bottle wedged in between the backseats are all signs of the good times we had inside Camy's protection.

Of course, Camy is good for solitude, too.  Around June of last year I was driving home from Altus on an early morning.  I had stayed the night at a friends house when we got home extremely late from a tourism meeting in Weatherford.  As I was driving home that morning, Camy was silent.  The radio was off and the morning sunrise made for a perfect drive full of prayer and meditation.  I had both hands on the wheel and I was focused solely on the road in front of me.  There was no phone ringing, no music blaring and no friends chattering, just me and Camy talking to God on the open road.  This magical moment was brought to a screeching halt when a deer suddenly lept from the right side of my vehicle to the left, where he then rolled off the road.  My only reaction was a high-pitched yelp as I heard the loud thud hit Camy's grill.  My heart beat fast and my mind was shocked, but I realized Camy and I were okay and we were still moving.  So I drove a few more miles down the road before I realized Cam might need some love and inspection towards her spot of impact.

When I got out of the car I was shocked to see her entire front end hanging down and brushing against the pavement.  Her headlights were shattered along with the rest of the front bumper.  Though she looked awful, we still had to get home, so I pushed her to finish the remaining fifteen miles it took to get home.

By the time we rolled in the driveway she had two blinking maintenance lights and a faint smell of smoke filling the air.  I turned her off and said a prayer of gratitude that we had made it home.  Unfortunately, when I filled Dad in about the situation, he was less than pleased.  I guess what I should have done was pull over immediately and not continue to drive on an injured engine.  With Dad's inspection he decided Camy needed to see her physician, Dr. Greg Petty.

I watched as my father and my brother loaded Camy on to a trailer.  She screeched and stumbled and scratched, but they finally got her loaded on the trailer.  I waved goodbye and hoped to see her in a few weeks.

Sure enough, about a month later I got to reunite with my best buddy.  She was as good as new for only about a thousand dollars with the help of insurance.  We wrote Dr. Petty a kind check and galloped out of town with the excitement of our reunion.

It wasn't but a few months later that Camy encountered another incident.  My cousin and I had taken her to Arkansas for a weekend trip.  (She does excellent on road trips, by the way.)  We were on our way home on a busy two-lane interstate when a tire popped up in the middle of the lane.  Miranda was driving, but because there was not time nor space to swerve into the next lane, she screamed and hit the tire head-on.

Immediately we pulled over to a big grassy area, off of the main road.  We used the flashlights on our cell phones to discover Camy's injuries.  She had a large piece of black plastic hanging down from the bottom of the front left side.  The fog light on that side was swinging loose as well, and a big piece of something was hanging down the center of the front bottom-side.

Two single girls sat on the side of a dark, busy highway four hours from home, with no mechanical skills that we knew of.  We called the Highway Patrol but they were of no help.  After discussing the dilemma with Dad we knew we had to find a way to fix it ourselves.  So with a little bit of creativity, Miranda pulled out an old scarf she didn't like and I dug through my purse for a pocket knife.  Miranda cut the scarf into thin strands and together we bolstered up Camy's entire bottom front-half.  We tied and tightened over and over again until we thought our redneckery would last us the twenty minutes we needed into the next gas station.

After saying another prayer, I pulled back out onto the highway.  Twenty, thirty, and finally fifty miles an hour, we went as we held our breath for our safety.  After five minutes we pulled over again to check our mastery.  Camy was holding up fine and our scarf trick had worked.  We proceeded to the next rest stop where we bought duct tape, bungee chords and Cheetos, just in case we got stuck again somewhere.

Fortunately, Camy made it the rest of the way home, and even over to Tipton where she again spent a week with Dr. Petty.  In under a thousand dollars, Camy was spick and span again and ready for another adventure.

Through snow storms, ice storms, dirt roads and interstates, Camy has made an excellent companion.  She has just over 80,000 miles on her now, but with that comes experience.  Together we've been to three different states, two college and lived in three cities.  She's been with me through good times and bad.  We no longer panic when we have no idea where we are.  Bumps and bruises are no longer threatening, but an excuse for a good story.  And an unknown road is only an option for adventure.

We've been together almost six years now, and Camy ain't done yet.  Any car that car survive my driving drama deserves a gold medal in my book.  As I mentioned earlier, cars aren't just inanimate objects.  They are devices that take us on adventures where memories are waiting to be found, and I hope Camy and I will have many more memories!

Camy-I

Have you ever heard the theory that people look like their dogs? Someone who owns a Bulldog might be a little bit gruff-faced, the owner of a Whippet might be extremely thin and athletic, or the owner of a lab might have big brown eyes.

I have a theory that people look like their cars.  Okay, maybe not look like them, but they drive a vehicle that reflects their personality.  Cars a symbol in Western culture.  They are a symbol of who you are, where you work and how much money you make.  Of course, you shouldn't be surprised to learn this, the American Dream is lurching everywhere.

Like it or not, in our culture, cars are tied to our identity.  Think how big of a deal it is to turn 16 and get your first car, or to work your butt off for years to purchase your first vehicle.  How many country songs are written about an old truck or 'ol blue or some other nickname used for a vehicle?  In fact, lots of people name their cars.  I know a majority of my friends have nicknames for their cars.  We include them in our nightly plans as if they were a member of the gang. "Let's take Sharla, she'll be best on fuel!"

Our personal vehicles are more than just a means of getting around, they are devices that truly transport us.  We let them carry us through different defining moments of life, and like a wise elder, they sit quietly and ask only for a little TLC when needed.  For this reason they are all the more cherished and accepted as one of our own.

With that in mind, I'd like to introduce you to a very dear friend of mine.  Meet Camy, the feisty red-head with big dreams and a fearless heart.

Camy is actually my second car.  After lots of shopping around and comparing safety features, my Dad bought her for me as a graduation present.  Though I wasn't fond on the shape of a Toyota Camry at first, I decided the Sports Edition would grow on me.  I have this impression that Camrys are normally sold as a Mom car or as a travel car for people in their mid-forties and up.  They are very economical cars with great gas mileage, not something you typically see an 18 year old driving around in.  Nevertheless, Camy and I have really grown to be great friends.

I was originally attracted to her because of her beautiful taillights.  The design of the Sports Edition looks like rhinestones are placed inside the taillights.  Being the blinged-out Senior in high school that I was, I loved that my car matched my favorite rhinestone accessories, but particularly my rhinestone ring I wore quite often.  The next thing I loved about my new friend, was her sunroof.  With rhinestones and a sunroof, I knew this chick would be a great companion for me.  My father of course, was sold on the fact that these cars run forever and are very safe.  The gas mileage was great which is good for a daughter traveling back and forth on her own across the state.

Other than making Sonic runs in Frederick, my first big moment with Camy was during the second semester of my Freshmen year.  I was attending WOSC in Altus and things were going well.  Once a week I was driving to Lawton for Mary Kay Meetings, but this particular week I had happened to go to a Mission Trip meeting at the Lawton BCM director's house instead.  Camy made the trip there and back like a champ.  She was superior.

The next day I hoped in my stylish ride like always.  I parked her in the back parking lot at school while I completed my morning classes, then I whipped in Wal-Mart for some household items and then finally parked in the Plantation parking lot where I was going to visit Grandma Sadler for a bit.

As I got out of my car, I shut the door and happily started walking towards the front doors of the building.  A few steps in, I turned around to look at my car as I pressed the lock button, and in a matter of seconds my entire world came crashing down.

I looked again.  Surely this is a dream!  Should I slap myself?  When did this happen?  How do I not know about this?  Am I alive?  Was I in a car wreck?  A total state of shock washed over me as I stood in the parking lot staring at my beautiful car.  I had been so diligent with her for the past ten months.  I washed her weekly, kept the tank full and drove her as gently as I could.  Yet somehow, the entire back end of her bumper was gone.  The beautiful taillights I had fallen in love with was shattered on the right side.  The outer red shiny plastic above the right tire was bent back so far that I could actually see the black metal frame that held my car together.  Needless to say, the entire right rear side of my vehicle was obliterated.

Panic, shock, fear washed over me.  I swallowed hard as big alligator tears voluntarily swelled up in my eyes.  I did the only thing my mind could think of.  I called Dad.

"Yeah, Haley."  He answered the phone.

Despite my desire to be strong and brave, I began sobbing.  I didn't know what to say.  I couldn't even tell my Dad what happened because I didn't know.  My heart was so sad and disappointed in whatever I did that was wrong.

Through sobs and tears I managed to get it out. "My car is broken."

Dad, calm and cool as ever, asked me to clarify my situation.

"I don't know.  I got out to go see Grandma and I looked and my bumper is messed up, the taillight is broken and I can see metal!

I'm so sorry, Dad.  I didn't hit anything.  I don't know what happened. "

"Well some one probably hit it.  Those things happen."

Dad seemed way too calm for this situation.  Those things happen??  What do you mean those things happen?  People go around smashing each other's cars for no reason?  Why did this happen to me?  I was being so careful!

Without much emotion, Dad told me it would be okay and that he would look at it in the next day or two.

Contrary to Dad's coolness, I was still a complete mess.  My stomach hurt, my heart was broken, I couldn't even go face Grandma.  So I went home.  I went home, sat down in our old red recliner and I texted my best friend, Abbye.

"I need a hug. :("

She sent back a sad face and said she'd be home soon.  While I waited all I could do was hold myself and cry.  Why would someone hit my car and not tell me?

My poor, poor Camy.  I had been so careful and so nice to her too.  She didn't deserve this.  She wasn't even a year old!

When Abbye came home she walked in the front door with a look of panic and concern on her face.  She saw me in the red chair and immediately came over to give me a big huge bear hug that was her specialty.  I bawled into her shoulder for a few minutes and then stopped to get a Kleenex and a deep breath.  She patted my shoulder and then asked me what was wrong.

After telling her my life-altering news, she laughed.

"Why are you laughing?"  I said through a red face and a crooked frown.

"I'm sorry, that wasn't funny.  It's just that, I thought it was something bad like boy trouble or death."

Okay her point wasn't totally out of line.  But I still felt awful.  Luckily, Abbye knew exactly what to do next.

"I'm taking you to get ice cream."

You would be utterly amazed at how far a cup of Braum's Birthday Cake Ice Cream goes.


So that was my first dose of reality, I would say.  I learned that people can be mean and careless and not have to suffer any consequences for it.  I also learned that you can be a good Christian lady, work hard, clean your car every week, and bad things can still happen to you.

Camy was there for that important life lesson.  Luckily she was as good as new with a small insurance claim and a couple thousand dollars.  A good waxing and her and I were shiny buddies again.

It wasn't until several months later that we made our first big adventure together.

The Onions Have Been Planted

The first crop of the new year has been planted.  Six rows of delicious onions; 2 red, 2 yellow, and 2 white, have been planted.

I had held off planting for the past few weeks due to several different things.  Grandpa's 90th Birthday Party, lots of freezing rain and snow, and spending more time working on the house.  After the majority of Hoovers left on Sunday morning, I found my time and weather, to plant onions.  The sunshine could not have been more beautiful, and the forecast called for a 50% chance of rain on Monday.

I had never planted onions before and I couldn't quite remember Grandpa's verbal instructions from three weeks back, so luckily Dad was around and he helped me get started.  The equipment we use still makes me giggle.  Two metal posts, some old string and a metal do-hickey are all we needed.  I had somehow thought a rake, a shovel and a hoe would be appropriate.

After stretching the string on the two posts to make a straight line, Dad showed me to poke the metal do-hickey into the ground to form small holes about 6 inches apart.  These small holes are what we drop the onion sprouts in.

My cousin Justin and his family came out to say goodbye when they realized what I was working on.  Justin has a very nice garden of his own back in Arkansas.  We discussed heirloom potatoes and red okra.  He also told me about a plant called Egyptian Walking Onions, which seem to replant themselves each year.  I'd like to see all these plants he described.

Justin and I agree that the best cure for sitting in an office all day is getting down and dirty in the garden.  Plus the health benefits of growing and eating your own food are so wonderful.  He is a few steps ahead of me in that he has been growing for longer and thus has a more expanded garden.  He plants tomatos, onions, peppers, squash and all sorts of things.  He also has a few chickens that provide him with fresh eggs and eventually fresh poultry.  This weekend he brought his fresh eggs with him and made omelets for everyone.  He also brought a big jar of non-pasturized milk he bought off of a neighbor.  It was absolutely delicious.

Originally, I had thought it would be fun for the whole family to get involved with the onion planting, making it a fun event on the farm.  However, the weekend was overly packed with fellowship, food and birthday cake, and everyone was only in for 1-2 nights, so I had to plant alone.  Turns out I didn't mind at all.  The solitude was just what I needed after a houseful of 30-50 people.  At first I thought I would play some music to relax, but then I realized you can listen to music anytime.  Silence is not something you can always get.

What a wonderful feeling it is to be all alone in the middle of nature.  I paused to look around me.  Wheat surrounded me on three sides.  Beautiful, lush, green wheat.  My hands and knees were covered in dirt and to my east I could admire the grand house that so often is filled with fond memories of friends and family.  The cows are usually pretty close to the fence near the garden, but they were off in the distance sun-bathing.  Even the kittens were lounging around in the grass, enjoying the quite sunshine.

I haven't mapped out exactly what all I want to plant this year, but my brother said he will be home next weekend and he has every intention of planting potatoes in the garden.  So I guess I will be finding some potato sprouts this week.

I'd like to try my hand in peppers this year for sure.  I love peppers and fresh salsa would be amazing.  However, if I want salsa I will have to learn the techniques for growing tomatos and those seem threatening because they start upside down.

Squash will be planted again, but this time I will make sure we get summer squash instead of winter.  Okra is a must, but I may not plant as much because that, my friends, was a high-maintenance plant.  Grant also mentioned having a few pumpkins for this fall and we all agreed watermelon was fun to pick on hot summer nights.

I guess I will start thinking about the contents of this year's garden.  As long as I can get help from my friends and family I think I am capable again.  Other than onions and potatoes, the rest of the plants prefer to wait until early May to be planted.

On Dealing with the Adult World

Life is really odd.  I guess along with my first career and first tastes of being a young single person outside of college, I have really learned a lot about life.  Last week was a very interesting experience for me.  I found myself very frustrated with the little lesson God through my way.

In a situation that seemed black and white in morality for me, it was the grey that was approved.  I know I am an idealist and a christian, but it seems to me as though virtually everyone is brought up being taught right from wrong.  All people teach their children to "be nice" and "obey the rules."  If the parents don't teach that, I know for fact society and the schools do.  So you can imagine how I was thrown for a loop when someone who "was not nice" and "did not obey the rules" ended up on top.

I think this was morally frustrating for me more than anything.  I just couldn't understand why we would chose to reward someone who had acted so ugly and disrespectful.  It was as if we were rewarding evil because we were scared that they would reap more evil.

Looking at the whole picture of things, I understand why it was the best option.  It made the organization look better as a whole and saved us a lot of bad publicity.  Yet in my black and white world, it seems like right and wrong would be a bigger issue than image.  I mean, don't our teachers spend the first 12 years of our life plastering us with phrases like "Why fit in, when you were born to stand out?" and "Sticks and stones can break my bones but words will never hurt me." and "If you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all."  All of these mantras go directly against everything I am learning about the "adult world."  In fact, the adult world seems to run by a completely different set of rules.

Something else I was taught growing up was that any job worth doing was worth doing right.  One of my first irritations with my new career was that everything was out of order and mismatching.  It bothered me that nothing was done right and so every small task took me an eternity to complete because I wanted things to be nice and perfect.  It was at lunch one day when I came home and explained to my mother why a simple banner design had me on the verge of tears.  She had to explain to me that things didn't have to be perfect all the time, they just had to get done.  So I felt awful for designing a tacky banner not to the fullest of my ability, just because it had to be cheap and quick.

Maybe it's just the Christian standard that has gone out the window.  Perhaps that is why adult world seems backwards.  Even my social life has been hard to figure out.  I mean we are raised with black and white expectations.  Go to college, get married, then have kids.  But all the grey is left out.  What about all these friends who accidentally got pregnant but didn't love the person they were with and is now single and trying to make ends meet.  How are we to respond to people who don't fit in the mold?  What about the fact that people my age who are married are not happy and seem completely nuts, yet the single ones are having a blast?  And how do I answer my friends when they point out that there is no need for women to get married anymore because they can support themselves now and be perfectly happy for a long time?

Social Media is an issue.  In college they taught us to keep strict tabs on our social media image.  We were to NEVER post tasteless pictures, especially those of drinking.  Yet in the adult world, if you walk in a room with your image being the main concern you will most likely be overlooked or kicked out instantly.  People want to know you, the real you, the sloppy, messy, drinking you that you are.  They don't want to hire a robot.  They want to hire someone who will enjoy a night of celebration after a big office victory.  It's like grown ups do whatever they want to do, regardless of what they teach the children.  So why then, do we teach the children these things?  To keep them naive and innocent as long as possible?  Okay, but isn't that fake?  Are we asking our children to be fake?  Are we raising kids to have an ideal mindset and prepare them for an imaginary world?

I have a few friends who raise their kids with realism.  I see them hide nothing from them.  They are very up front and honest with their kids, even at a very young age.  There is no babying, yet there is compassion and caring.  I am not yet old enough to see how these kids turn out, but my eye is upon them with fascination.  I am so curious as to how this method differs from everything I have ever been taught.

Life is an interesting train.  Each railcar brings a whole new box of either goodies or coal and it's up to you to sift through it all and hop onto the next car as it comes.

2014: An Adventurous Year!

Thought Christmas Letters can be cheesy, it is definitely a good way as the writer to reflect upon the blessings of the year.  So this blog post, to an extent, is my personal Christmas Letter to my readers and to myself.

As another year comes to an end, I am reminded to look back at how far I've come in the past twelve months.  This time last year I was getting ready to graduate college and spread my wings into the post-education world for good.  I was juggling several different ideas like working on a ski lift in Taos, applying for a PR job in Fayetteville or moving to Altus again to continue waitressing.  While the vastness of the opportunities was exciting, it was also somewhat overwhelming.  In the meantime I graduated and moved back home to figure it out, only to find myself still jobless in January.  A good friend of the family was the new president for the Chamber of Commerce in my hometown.  She asked me three different times to take the job of Executive Director.  On the final time, when I realized I needed to work and not live with my parents forever, I said yes.  Parts of me were scared to death.  I was afraid I was giving away my freedom, and that I would live in this town forever.  Other parts of me were excited, but afraid I wouldn't be trained and qualified enough for the position.

Despite the fear and doubts I can honestly look back and say I'm glad I took the job.  No it wasn't what I had planned for myself at this stage in my life, but my life has been--if anything--more exciting because of it.

I have learned so much in all areas of my life.  I have worked with lots of different types of people and committees.  I have organized several large events, and even created a new one.  I've become more organized and learned the appreciation of files and folders.  I have enjoyed the consistency of routine and learned to make the most of my downtime.

Math has forever been my enemy, yet I have day by day found myself handling large amounts of money, depositing them and keeping books on a dozen different accounts.  Who would have ever thought I'd be capable of such?  I have actually became quite comfortable with numbers this year.  Although writing will always be my true love.  Having a weekly column for the paper has been fun and interesting, and though I am writing emails, newsletters, and press releases all day long at work, the activities haven't taken away from my writing passion at home.  In fact, I have grown a lot as a writer this year.  I am working on two lengthier stories now (which is a first), one is even a fiction (another first.)  I have also been documenting a lot more of my life story, and somewhat kept up with my blog.

I started the year with goals to grow as a painter too.  That has happened as well.  I was involved in an Art Walk in Norman in January, followed by an Art/Craft show in Choctaw in March, and I participated as an artist in Arts 'N Action in September in Frederick.  I also spent a week in Eureka Springs over the July 4th holiday taking a painting class with Barbara Robinson, which was extremely helpful and inspiring.  I've sold prints and paintings to many people, some even through Etsy.  Though Etsy was fun for a while, I have laid off of it momentarily, seeing the expenses outweigh the benefits.  Perhaps after some establishment I will bring it back.

On the travel side I spent a weekend in March in Santa Fe, New Mexico.  I went skiing with a group of friends and enjoyed some delicious Jamaican and Brazilian food while down there.  The following weekend I spent in Lubbock, Texas where I finally got to see one of my favorite artist's studio (Baron Batch.)  I went with Jessica Carr and my mom and we got to see Mom's old friends and tour the Texas Tech stadium as well.

In May Amber and I went to Edmond and had a blast.  And in June I went with my mom and Aunt Denice and Uncle Tommy to Indianapolis for my cousin Maggie's wedding.  July was my first travel experience alone.  I spent 5 days in Eureka Springs by myself and had an absolute blast.  In August Amber and I went to Norman/Midwest City for her birthday and had oh so much fun.  In September I went to Tulsa for an Air Force ball with my friend Carlos.  That was a great experience. I got to wear an old prom dress!  In October I went to Norman and then Jodi and Jacob and I visited Grant in Stillwater. In November, I returned to Eureka with Miranda and had just as much fun, if not more!  Later in November I took my second trip alone and got to visit the wonderful Palo Duro Canyon in Canyon, Texas.  I stayed at a historic Bed and Breakfast and got an amazing massage by a local therapist.

At another point this summer our family took a mini-vacation to Bricktown, OKC and had a lot of fun.  Grant and I kayaked on the river.  We all dined at Kevin Durant's restaurant and took the river boat cruise which has changed drastically since we took it in the 90s right before the big renovations.

Other fun experiences included:

• Experiencing a Lavender farm in Apache for a tourism meeting
• Goose Knocking at Hackberry Flat Day
• Shooting a WWII style gun at Open Hangar Day
• Cadillacin' on Rock 'N Rumble weekend in Altus
• Learning to play the guitar
• Dressing up at Stevie Nicks for an Arts Council Event
• Great concerts: Casey Donahue, Kings of Leon, Slipknot and Fleetwood Mac!
• Jammed out with Altus friends + my parents and Uncle Ray, Aunt Cheryl, Grant and Hunter at Mayor's Blues Ball at Medicine Park
• I took a Mosaic class with Jenny Perry in Frederick
• I played more golf this Spring/Summer than I have since college golf
• Organized and Celebrated my 5 year High School Reunion
• Got to see a tribute to Elvis Presley and others, though Elvis was my favorite
• Dressed up as Ginger Spice with a group of other Spice Girls for Halloween
• Went to two OU games and a half (tailgated but didn't stay for the game.)
• Consistently joined a Yoga class in town
• Completed a Spring Boot Camp program with Downtown Fitness
• Successfully planted and harvested my first garden!

Not so fortunate, but big events include:

• Breaking my nose in a skateboarding accident
• Hitting a Deer with my car
• Running over a Tire with my Car
• Got my own car insurance (consequence of the former of course)

Regarding others in my life:

• I got to watch my mother perform in a play
• One of my best friends studied abroad in Spain
• Another good friend came home safely from Afghanistan
• I made a friend from Hawaii and learned a lot
• Out of my two best friends from childhood, one had a baby and one got engaged
• We moved Grandma and Grandpa to Assisted Living
• Moved my brother to OSU!

All this and I still got to work at Tom's a few weekends here and there, and of course there were many, many weekends spent in Altus with those beloved friends as well!  I also got to experience a weekend of catering with Amber and Julie Oxford (turns out I hate it and it was nothing like waitressing.)  I also joined the local Rotary Club and the Arts and Humanities Council, both of which have been absolutely amazing!

Overall, I would say this has been one of my most fantastic years.  I've learned and grown a lot spiritually, physically and professionally.  I am so thankful for this year of my life and I am praying next year is just as amazing.  Thanks to all of the wonderful people who have helped make this year wonderful!

Give Love a Chance

I look at the world and feel depressed.  There is so much anger and cruelty.  Middle school girls stab each other in the back over and over again.  Gang members constantly battle one another.  Families fall apart, people divorce and fall outs happen.  Friends leave you high and dry, the church fails and lovers break hearts.

It seems as though there is no one trustworthy but God.  So why do we put our trust in other people?  Why do we try so hard to love others, only to be let down, rejected and alone?

My heart yearns for this earth to be covered in love and happiness.  My head is in a fairytale place; it sees the ideal instead of the real.  This is as much a blessing as it is a curse.  The cruel realities of the world are forever breaking my heart.  People treat others in horrible ways, sometimes without even knowing it.  We are a broken, angry, and hurt world.  The only way out is heaven.  But what do we do until then?

Inevitably we will experience pain.  But if there were no pain we would not be truly living.  Are we fully feeling life if we only experience the good parts?

Give love a chance.

"Dreams"

What if life is not about what we think it's about?  What if the money and the madness and the fame are all just an illusion Satan places before us in order to trick us into thinking we're happy.  What if your educational platform and the number of hours you work, the people you know and the things you force yourself to do were of no actual importance?

"Stevie" 2014. Oil, Acrylic, Glitter.  Haley Hoover

One of my biggest creative role models is none other than Stephanie Lynn Nicks, of Fleetwood Mac.  I find her mysterious and vulnerable poetry an absolute joy, and I am grateful that she has the courage to release it into the world; healing hearts as she does so.

A thought that totally captivates me with her life is that Stevie actually never finished High School.  Her and Buckingham dropped out in pursuit of a musical career.

On first thought I was a bit offended that my inspiration was a drop-out.  The world teaches us to frown upon such things.  On second thought though, I was proud.  I was proud to hear of such brave acts from a young woman.  Sometimes it's the natural skills and passions that need to be tapped into, yet we run in the opposite direction in search of anything and everything that will promise us a secure and meaningful life.  Of course, those things can't be promised (nor bought) and yet we feed into the lie anyways.

I'm sure some would argue that it was a different time back then and school was not pushed as a priority for young students as much as it is now.  I would agree with that perspective.  But what if Stevie were growing up in today's age, an age where school is not an option for the student, but mandated by parents, society and even the government.   College is expected and a Bachelor's Degree is the standard.  Life without these things can result in fear, confusion and rejection by those around you.  If Stevie were growing up in the age of all this would she have still found the courage to spread her wings and fly into her God-given purpose?  Perhaps she would go to college instead and major in Creative Writing; joining the jazz band as an extra curricular activity and all the while stressing about juggling these things plus a job and boyfriend.  What would have happened?

On the flip side, what would the world look like if more of us were courageous and true to our hearts?  Would we spend more time writing poetic lyrics and playing beautiful harmonies?  Would we use our time creating joyous things for others rather than serving the man?

The say about young people who have a good career and a place of their own: "He's really got his life together now."  He is perfectly packaged and wears a suit everyday.  His friends are proud to know him and his parents just gained a lot of connections and respect.  He has ladies falling for him left and right and the world is at his finger tips.

But..

Is he happy?

I wonder if "having your life together" is a synonym for "fall in line, settle down and don't rock the boat."  Are the wanderers and adventurous incorrectly perceived as the hopeless rebels of society?  Or are they the only ones who live and experience enough to call their life full and exciting.

I think there is nothing wrong with living a simple life.  Most of my family has settled in at an early age and moved very little distances.  I see contentedness and satisfaction in their wrinkles.  That's sweet to see.  I love the idea of this, but maybe God created each of us in such a profoundly unique way, and everyones destiny is much more varied than our cultural specs allow us to see.

Perhaps I am young and naive to think that one could survive off of an artistic career.  But then again, is now not the age to try all the theories?

"3 Feet"

Adventure in the heart
adrenaline pumping veins
fill up your soul
or function through the plains

Ocean waves surround her now
Sun shines freely
shake it all off
become who you see in the distance

Pray for your soul, darling
Pray for your soul.
See that if finds it's route
Don't let it hydroplane.
Life has to be lived.

The air beneath your wings
nothing stops a sailor.
Keep on fishing
don't drop anchor.
Carry on through the deep
carry on through the depths
Rise again to see the beauty of it all.

Pray for your soul, darling
Pray for your soul.
See that if finds it's route
Don't let it hydroplane.
Life has to be loved.

The lights are behind you now.
The chains are gone.
Let your skin release
and find your home.

No metal
no more
no high buzz
sit and see
what all it was

Pray for your soul, darling
Pray for your soul.
See that if finds it's route
Don't let it hydroplane.
Life has to be lived.
Life has to be loved.

A Slow Fade

Have you ever noticed how everything fades?  Nothing of God is stark in contrast and harsh on the eyes.  Everything he touches has a subtle glory to it that gradually changes from light to dark or dark to light.  Take the sunrise and the sunset for instance.  It doesn't instantly change from harsh bright light to pitch black darkness.  Although that would be more practical and God could easily choose to do that, he doesn't.  He chooses to start and end each day with a breathtaking 20 minute light show.  First the navy fades to a lighter blue, then gradually it turns into a baby blue hue.  Eventually the blues turn into light pinks and the pinks produce orange and the orange hits its zenith when it produces the crop of a bright yellow sun blazing forth in all its glory and light.

There is a Casting Crown song called "It's a Slow Fade" that also talks about this process--except in people.

It's a slow fade when you give yourself away
It's a slow fade when black and white have turned to gray Thoughts invade, choices are made, a price will be paidWhen you give yourself awayPeople never crumble in a dayIt's a slow fade, it's a slow fade
                     --It's a Slow Fade, Casting Crowns

Even the life of people changing from dark to light and light to dark is a slow fading one.  Again illustrating the fact that God makes everything beautiful in its time.  He does not rush any process, but draws it out as long or as short as he needs to in order to see the most beautiful part of his will done.  

"Sorrowful Flower" 2014. Oil Paint. Haley Hoover

In painting I often hear instructors talk about the gradual fading of the background of a painting.  While it is easy to paint the background one solid color, pile the composition on top of it and then call it done, it is the fading and blending of the background that brings depth and interest to the eye.  For some reason I seem to struggle with this.  I either want a plain solid background, or a background with bright, bold patterns.  Neither of these options are subtle or blending, and that often leaves my work with a lack of depth.  However, in the few times I have listened to my instructors and taken the time to go the extra mile and create an interesting, light to dark or dark to light fading background, I typically find myself amazed with my work and proud of myself for taking the road less traveled by.

Music is the same way.  When listening to a great song it doesn't start up in full swing, it begins with a tempo then builds from there.  The song has it's rising and falling through the melody and lyrics, but it is always a gradual rise and fall--producing something breathtakingly beautiful.  The words crescendo and decrescendo come to mind.  On the other hand, the song might begin full swing and then fade back to a slower, deeper tempo, and end on an up again.  The whole process is creative, but the point is that the beauty, the desire, the passion that lures you--it comes from a wonderful process of slow building up and tearing down.

Take a look around at all the beautiful things in life.  They are all slow fading processes.  The instant-gratification series is not part of the list of valued things in life.  A baby turning into a man, a seed turning into a bulging vegetable, an athlete's body changing from scrawny to meaty, a full course meal that starts with herbs, spices and onions--everything is made beautiful in its time.  Nothing wonderful happens in an instant.  

Nothing that is, except technology.  Technology is instant and it makes our lives better.  We should love technology and the instantaneous joy it brings us.  It completely illuminates the need for waiting or patience or process.  I think this is our way out of beauty.  It's our gift to ourselves.  We give each other permission to skip the design and go straight to the results.   

(That was sarcasm.)

Look at your relationships.  The best of friends are slowly made over time.  A woman and a man build the healthiest of marriages when they slowly get to know each other from strangers to lovers.  And in God, we love him more with each passing day spent in his presence.  We aren't instantly lovers with the Lord.  We start as servants and humbly grow closer and closer with him until we are his lovers and his is ours.  Don't be discouraged by the "status" of your walk.  It's a slow fade, like all things beautiful.

                             

Vulnerable Beauty in a Perfect World

I often ponder how God would like the world to be.  I mean he knows we are imperfect and he never expects that but "in a perfect world" what would he like that to look like?

I think we were designed to live in nature.  God created beautiful mountains and trees and rivers--all for our enjoyment, yet we spend 90% of our time indoors looking at a screen or a wall.

He created us to eat from the dirt we come from and will return too.  All those nutrient rich foods come straight out of the ground and they take lots of hard work and tending in order to mature to perfection.  God didn't create cardboard burgers and wax-infused candy.  He created the good stuff.  The stuff a man can live on.

"Poncho Love" Haley Hoover, 2014

I think he designed us to be married young.  The natural inclination of body maturity, hormones and emotional growth make sense to cling to a spouse around the late teens age.  I think society and careers and other such goals get in the way of this.

I also believe He would want us all to live vulnerably through creating and being.

Everyone would dance.  How many verses in the Bible do you see people "dancing before the Lord"?  People don't dance because they are embarrassed or afraid of what others will think.  Yet dancing, it every form, is a most intimate form of communication.  It is an outward reflection of the heart.  When the Spirit really gets a hold of you, there is no more natural thing than to let go of the fear of the world and set your spirit moving throughout the body.

Like dancing, singing would feel the earth.  Singing is also an act of vulnerability.  I believe we can all sing beautifully, but again it is fear that holds us back.  Fear holds us back from singing beautiful songs all day long as we go about our work.  Many years ago they sang while they worked in the fields.  But who would ever sing passionate worship songs in the middle of the office or at the plant?

All of these man made things have stripped us of our sensitivity and ability to sincerely communicate with God and with each other.  I've written before about the theory that we are all creators in some way or another.  Everyone was born with a passion and everyone can use that passion to create a beautiful contribution for the world.  Wether its painting, woodworking, singing, cooking, teaching, or anything else that is creative, all of those things come from a heart eager to give love to others.

Perhaps we are all full of beautiful talents and just don't know it.  We let the shame of others keep us from living out of our deepest depths.  Maybe we all have secret lives where we do what we would rather do all day long.  Maybe we hide our beauty because it threatens a broken world.  Beauty is vulnerable.  Beauty is captivating.  It heals, creates change and demands love in the deepest parts of our souls.

Yes, I think we all have the ability to share love.  I think God would have us all sing, dance, pray, write, cook, love, eat, care and build in a perfect world.  Perhaps each of us are better at intimacy in our own specific love language to the world.  But then, maybe we were meant to embrace all forms for the sake of a wonderful Father.

Love the world today.  Show them how you share your passion.

Brother John

I believe we were all designed to create something to glorify God.  Whether it's art, lesson plans, furniture or sermons, humans have a desire to make something from nothing and that is most fulfilling when it glorifies the creator.

Last week was our first Sunday as a church without our friend Pastor John.  It has been a long time since my home church has been preacher-less.   From before I was born until my middle school years we had a preacher we called Brother Charles.  He was at our church for about 25 years.  The gap in between him and Brother John spanned of several years.  There was a man in between but he didn't last very long.

Really, I spent some of the most crucial years of my life in a church without a youth minister or a preacher.  My family went to church every Sunday and Wednesday regardless of the lack of staff.  Throughout most of this time I joined the cool kid crowd at school and became somewhat of a "snot", as I have heard it explained before.  I was very focused on myself and my outward appearance, and anyone outside of my friend circle was irrelevant.

Towards the end of May 2007,  the summer before my Junior year, I remember meeting Brother John for the first time.  I was 16 and my attitude portrayed that.  The church hadn't officially voted John into the church yet I don't think, but he was invited to our house for dinner and inspection.  I really don't remember much about that night at all because I didn't care about this new preacher and I really didn't want to eat dinner with him or my family, I had friends to meet up with and things to do.

After a long and meaningless dinner with all the adults, I finally received permission from my parents to go hang out with my friends.  By this point in the evening we were all outside in the garage talking and enjoying the night air.  Realizing that I was in my own world of narcissism, Brother John kindly looked me in the eyes and began asking me about school, my friends, and my love interest.  I remember being shocked that he would care enough to ask me about my life.  I remember thinking it was odd that he cared.  Weren't preachers only interested in old people with money and visiting the sick and dieing?  What does he care that I have 2 best friends who I do everything with?  It's not like they even go to my church.

 His willingness to know me definitely made an impact.  In fact, it softened me long enough to let my worries about my friends and appearance momentarily float into the background of the real world.  That was my first meeting of Brother John.

Just a week or two later I found myself at a Christian leadership camp I had always been forced to go to.  Every year I went for the wrong reasons and came back with little to no spiritual growth.  This year was different though, on the second night of worship I deeply and vividly encountered the Lord.  I tasted him and saw that he was good.  My desire for him became so immense that I decided that night to change every part of my life.  I wanted God, first and foremost.  Nothing else mattered anymore.

When I returned home, a few weeks and another camp later, I think lots of people were shocked at my attitude change.  I had abandoned my old friends and habits and begun actively pursuing a teen girls bible study program.

Brother John had become our official pastor and he was very eager to hear about all of the youth's experiences at camp.  Although we liked the attention, I think all of us were a bit hesitant to trust this new preacher guy.  We had never had an adult take interest in our personal lives, much less a ministry leader at the church.  So in spite of our mistrust, a handful of us teenagers began creating our own gathering.  We met on our own time to talk about God and how to grow the youth membership at our church.  By the end of July there was a solid group of teens on fire for the Lord for the first time in years.  We recruited everyone we could to go with us to Falls Creek, an evangelical camp.  John encouraged us all the way, yet we still weren't 100% sure about this guy.

That year at Falls Creek many kids came to know Jesus.  A flame was lit and it spread rampantly throughout the entire school year.  There were more Bible Studies organized than we knew what to do with, and the church was finally actively looking in to hiring us a youth minister (although we didn't want one because we had never had a good experience with one.)

Every Sunday John encouraged us, both from the pulpit and from eye level.  He was so concerned about our spiritual growth.  He always asked us questions and told the old people to encourage us and lead us.  After church he would come to our pew section and ask us about God, school and our dating habits.  He truly cared and that really set a firm church foundation in many of us for the first time.  We also liked that he didn't care if our friends were Methodist or whatever, he just wanted them to know the Lord.  That's what we believed too and we were relieved that an adult seemed to "get it."

Throughout my last 2 years of high school, John was a big role model for me.  He was a Christian man who loved the Lord and the Lord's people more than anything else.  He brought our broken church together and taught us to love and trust again.  I had never seen my church so friendly and full of love.  It was a refreshing change to have a positive, encouraging and friendly preacher shaking each and every one of our hands every Sunday.  He came to our football games and cheered as loud as Mom and Dad.  He visited our grandparents when they were sick, and he even showed up at the County Fair!  John got it.

When I graduated High School he spoke at my Baccalaureate reception.  Classmates I had prayed over expressed their appreciation for his encouraging speech.

For the following 4 years I moved off to college and found myself in First Baptist every few months or so.  He as always so specific in his questions about my schooling, my future husband I hadn't met yet, and my relationship with the Lord.

This year I moved back home and have been going to First Baptist every Sunday with my parents and grandparents once again.  Of course, Brother John was the first to congratulate me on my new job and tell me how great I was doing.  I can't tell you how humbling it is to make your preacher proud.

I guess we all hurt when he announced his resignation a few Sundays ago.  He assured us a thousand times of his love and we all knew he was doing what he thought was best for his family.  With a bittersweet farewell, we held one last Ice-Cream Social for Brother John and told stories of how much he meant to us.  I wanted desperately to stand up and contribute, but I knew I wouldn't be able to without getting emotional.

When the formal reception was over, I walked over to Brother John and gave him a big hug.  He squeezed me and told me he was proud of me, and big alligator tears instantly filled my eyes.  At a loss for words, I quickly hugged his wife and exited out the back of the building.  I couldn't quit crying when I realized how much this man had impacted my life.  He had been there through every big event and had been a huge part in laying the spiritual foundation of my life.  He taught me to trust the leaders in a church again and also to trust myself and the calling God has given me.

Although it is hard to let go, I am trusting the Lord will provide us with another great man to follow in John's footsteps.  In the meantime I am thanking God for this spirit-led man who has been such a gift to all of us.  He created love out of madness and unity out of separation.  His gift to us was totally inspired from the Lord.  What a blessing it has been to receive what he willingly created.

Maybe the Garden Isn't So Bad After All...

Gardening isn't so bad after all.  Maybe I did get a little bit of my grandpa's green thumb in my genes.

Today I picked my first okra crop.  I spent well over an hour and a half in the garden and wound up late for work.  It was 75 degrees and cloudy, a beautiful day to work outside.  I suppose the serenity of it all caused me to lose track of time.  That, and the fact that I had twice as much work to do.

I think gardening is sort of like a video game in that it gets more and more complex with each new step.  When you master level 1 of fighting off big weeds and protecting baby plants, then you move to level two, which is fighting off billions of tiny weeds, watering constantly and still protecting the plants.  Level 3 combines all of this plus evil grasshopper ninjas.  (The secret to that level was finding out about a magical dust that kills off the villain.)

Today I entered level four.  Not only was there big weeds, little weeds and grasshoppers to be fought, but now there was a beautiful menagerie of dead grasshoppers and baby frogs to avoid, plus you have to harvest the crop.  One may think harvesting okra is quite simple.  Well, it is and it isn't.  The picking is easy because you simply break, twist or cut the stem off from the plant and through the fruit in a bucket.  The hard part is knowing when to pick it.  Just like those darn video games, timing is everything.  Pick to early and the fruit isn't ripe, but pick a day or two later and the darn thing is 6 inches long and tough as a rock.

I'm not the hardest working Gardener there is, I'm trying, but my time commitment to the garden has been about one morning a week, sometimes two.  One week ago I tended my garden and was very pleased.  There were lots of baby sprouts of okra, and several small squash plants growing.  It had finally rained a few inches, for the first time all summer!  That rain brought lots of growth, a skip-watering-free card, and the addition of baby weeds solidly covering the earth.  What blows my mind, is less than a week later, the baby okra sprouts are already overgrown and too tough to eat!  Where did the time go?  They grow up so fast...

Luckily it is raining again this week, 1 inch yesterday and it is currently falling outside my window.  We've been in a drought so long I guess I don't actually understand the role of rain.  For the first 2 months of my gardening career I relied solely on water out of a hose for nourishment, but the last two weeks have seemed like a vacation because nature has basically taken care of itself.  I guess that's sort of how the whole thing works, isn't it?  You plant the seeds and help them out along the way, but the end result is up to nature--it's up to God.  Perhaps this is how child rearing takes place too.

I have been pleasantly surprised at the simplicity of gardening.  I am the type who doesn't do anything without reading a book about it first, and when I took on this whole project I had envisioned grandpa being my book, holding my hand through each step of the process until I knew with somewhat certainty what I was doing.  It hasn't been like that at all though, really, with the exception of the first planting and weeding, I've pretty much done everything on my own.  The level of my family's farm and garden expertise is so high that explaining the basics isn't something they can comprehend.  I could tell by the way my elementary questions were handled by my grandpa and dad.  It's like their minds literally could not register the fact that I didn't already know this stuff.

While I love the farm and the earth and all that jazz, I've never really been an A+ farmer's daughter.  I was in 4-H and FFA, but that was all rather socially obligated since I didn't show animals.  I thought about showing a pig once, but dad said I 'd be the one getting up at 6 every morning to feed, water and walk it, so I decided not to.

A large majority of my childhood was spent playing on the farm.  But I didn't drive tractors, collect eggs and milk cows like one might assume.  My cousins and I ran around the open spaces creating forts and houses, games and adventures.  When we were forced to retract inside for dinner (lunch), we would clean ourselves up and eat with the family, afterwards finding new escapades involving grandma's lipstick and old dresses.  My Dad was always on the tractor working hard and the men in the family would assure my girl cousins and I that we needed to help grandma in the kitchen, rather than our dad's on the farm.  So we did, and I'll tell you what, I do know how to make a mean chicken fried steak, but ask me about acres and cattle and I might give you a blank stare.

It's not that I disagree with my spot on the family farm so much as it is that I just don't learn things in a normal way.  I have to see things written out on paper or acted out in front of me.  If we're going to talk numbers of acres and numbers of cattle blah, blah, blah...you better hold your tongue till I have a pad of paper and a pen to take notes on.  Then I need a good hour or so to commit this information to memory.  That's just the way I learn.  Unfortunately, farm life seems to be less educational and more intuitive.  I guess that's what I mean when I say the simplicity of gardening surprised me.  With little to no instruction, each day I show up at the farm with a tank top and some muddy tennis shoes.  I then rummage around till I find a pair of gloves and grandpa's assorted hoes.  After that I pretty well dive into my work.  Each visit presents something different, and each visit I learn something new.  If something odd happens I ask dad or grandpa and they of course, always have the answer.

Actually, I did stump them one time.  Last week after gardening, I cleaned up and got ready for work as usual.  Later that morning I was sitting at my desk when I caught a glimpse of my shin.  I screeched and rolled my chair back from behind the dark interior of my desk.  I blinked hard and my stomach rolled up in a knot as I realized I had large red blotches all over my legs, from knee cap to ankle and from shin bone to the fat of my calf.  Medical things really creep me out, and especially ugly, unexplainable creepy medical things on my own flesh.  Eww.  I looked and I looked and I couldn't turn away even though my stomach was getting incredibly weak.  How awful, how embarrassing, but what was it?  I went home at lunch, eager to show my mom my disgusting news, but she was at sewing class.  So I slapped on some Aloe Vera gel and went back to the office.

It wasn't until late that night I had the opportunity to show my folks what the garden did to my legs.  Horrified, they both asked if it was chiggers.  I had assumed that myself, but because they didn't itch I wasn't sure what to make of them.  Mom suggested I take a benadryl and Dad said the same.  So for a full week, I had to wear pants to work in the Oklahoma July heat of 107 degrees.  It wasn't easy, but I couldn't expose those disease-looking legs.  Fortunately, the bumps eventually went away, and before returning to the garden today I lathered myself in Avon's Skin-So-Soft (an old tradition of our family) and so far, have seen no return of the bumps.  What they were exactly, still remains a mystery.

Day 1: Blocked Creatives

Yesterday in art class I spoke of this to another young woman in the class with me.  She was an art teacher for K-5.  She just finished her first year and hated it, yet signed up for a second year anyway.  We talked about how we both had great jobs, yet felt completely unsatisfied--like we were longing to do something else, something creative.  But the question lingered, do we do that now and risk poverty, or are we supposed to be miserable the first 40 years of our life so we can comfortably enjoy this freedom on the backslide?  As my new friend Kristen said, “Sounds like a miserable way to live, to me.”

But as I looked around the room at the other 6 students, four of them had shared stories about miserably working for corporate for ++ years before they finally retired and began to pursue art.  Between the other two students, one was a local artist who owned her own family gallery and taught metal-smithing regularly, and the other was a middle school art teacher who lived on a farm south of Eureka.  Although she said she enjoyed her job, she also said she hated dealing with students all day.

So what were we really doing there?  It seems as though we were all just looking for validation as artists.  Are we good enough, Barbara?  Is this okay?  How does this look?

I don’t think these questions were as much physical as they were spiritual.  We were asking for healing to our broken spirit.  Too many times people told us we couldn’t, and this was our small, 3-day escape into a dream we might like to pursue some day.

One student I particularly felt for.  She sat in the back of the room and seemed to enjoy herself more than any of us.  She laughed and played and encouraged the rest of us.  When she shared her story it was a similar path I have seen myself on.  She was almost an art teacher.  She earned a Bachelor’s degree in Art or Psychology or something, and then spent 40 years being a waitress.  Throughout these 40 years she had always dabbled in painting, yet never fully pursued it.  She has always wanted to be an artist.

Two my left were the two Lindas.  Linda O. and Linda G.  Linda O’Neal was 71, though she didn’t look a day over 50.  She was a fun, spunky, I-can’t-believe-your-a-grandma type.  She had been a hairdresser for 25 years, then in her 40s decided she wanted to be a nurse, so she did that for 25 more years before retiring.  Now she and Linda G. are part of an art gallery in Hardee, Arkansas.  They spend all their time taking and organizing art classes.  They group together with 29 other women to run this gallery and keep the spirit alive.  She was fun and helpful and peaceful.

Linda G. was originally from Boston, and her accent stuck in my dreams after day 1.  Fun and yet the most boisterous student, I see her story as somewhat sad.  She was one had worked corporate for many years, finding herself very successful and very miserable.  She retired and moved to Saint Croy in the Caribbean for a while, where she met her current husband. He owned land in Hardee, and that is where she moved and met Linda O.  The two were the best of friends and quite a hoot to fellowship with.

The ESSA intern, Anja was 3 years younger than me.  She is a student at the University of Arkansas in Fayetteville.  Born and Raised in Bentonville, yet her parents own a restaurant in Eureka Springs so she spends much time here.  She is majoring in Art and Drawing.  She told me of her dreams.  She said she would take any job she could get after graduating so she could eventually move up to a high-paying, well-respected job.  She is going into her junior year.  I said the same thing when I was her age.  A year later I was miserable.

Life is a funny thing.  What are we all doing here?  Why do we have desires and longings and pains that won’t go away unless we do a certain thing.  It’s called purpose, but why is it such a consuming thing?  Why can’t we just turn it off and be happy?  We can turn it off, but happiness is not the result.

I don’t want to have to wait till I’m 50 to uncover my inner artist.  I want this heart of me to grow up with me, flowing over with love and confidence.

It’s a spiritual journey and I need the help of self and Christ to nurture this desire.  I know without a doubt I am born to write and paint.  I am born to dance and sing and love.  

Where do I go from here?